


Purple

by Ragno



Series: Colors [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Domestic, Edgeplay, Electricity, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Masochism, Master/Slave, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-03 19:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragno/pseuds/Ragno
Summary: Brendon is not a baby boy, a slave, a pet, or a prey, so he doesn't need a daddy, a master, an owner, or a predator. He likes pain, he likes rough play, and he likes Ryan. Their connection in bed is undeniable, but a BDSM lifestyle is much more than just sex. Was everybody right when they told Brendon he didn't belong to the community?BDSM 101: What the fuck is going on?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! First of all, thank you so much for all the kind words and kudos "Beige" received, if "Purple" is a thing is because of every one of you who took the time to show love, comment, and ask for a second part. I also want to apologize to any of you who might be reading "Evergreen" too. My partner in crime, Xipypuck, is super busy right now, so she's having a hard time translating her chapters, but I promise the fic is finished already, so there will be an update sooner or later. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed the first part! Lots of love.
> 
> \- R

Brendon is on his knees, legs frog tied and open, his chest box tied with his arms behind his back. Ryan put him on the leather bench, pushed the electric metal dildo inside him and connected it to the battery, set it medium power and slapped Brendon’s ass with a “ride it”. His back and chest are already red from the flogging, and his cock is aching hard because Ryan hasn’t seen anyone enjoy electricity as much as Brendon does. The chain attached to the clover clamps adorning his used nipples bumps against his chest every time he arches his back, every time he moves. The blindfold makes his lips look fuller, lusher, and maybe they’re bigger than usual after Ryan tortured them with bites.

This is them now, this is what they’ve become. And this is Ryan’s guest room, which he has turned into an improvised dungeon after all the shit he’s been buying lately to play with Brendon. He knows he will cry the moment he sees his bank account but, good God, isn’t he enjoying the results. He didn’t even need _this_ much to play with Brendon, to be honest. Brendon is a simple man, he goes well just using hands and ropes and physical brutality, but Ryan, he’s more self-indulgent. Ryan likes a good set up, the right vibe, the imagery. The moment he paints the walls black it will be just perfect. For now on, the room full of torture devices will have to do.

Ryan lowers his hand to stroke his cock over the fabric of his pants. Just seeing Brendon like this gets him so hard he’s almost dizzy, and he can’t wait to push him down against the bench, hold him, fuck him until he empties himself inside that body. He wants to wait, though. He wants to wait until Brendon is shaking, sweating, begging. Ryan knows he’ll get there, he always gets there, sooner or later, electricity always does the trick, and Ryan won’t let him come until he does, anyway. Not that he can verbally control Brendon’s orgasms (yet), but he’s inserted a metal cockplug in him and it’s not going off until Ryan is inside him.

That motherfucker, though…

That motherfucker is _singing_

“I’m a cowboy!” Brendon pants, with a smug smile painted on his face, his hips rolling against the leather. “On a steel horse I ride. And I’m wanted, _waaanteeed_ , dead or alive!”

"You're such an asshole..." Ryan says when he can't help laughing, getting closer and slapping Brendon's stomach with his hand wide open. Brendon flinches and moans a little, smiling.

"No, baby. I'm a cowboy. _Yeehaw_.”

Ryan shakes his head, walking around him and pushing him down, making him fall on the bench with a thud. It makes Brendon gasp and groan. Ryan smiles.

"Not a cowboy anymore?" He asks, spanking Brendon's ass with his bare hand, making him twitch, his inner muscles sucking the metal dildo in.

"And I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back, I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back. I've been everywhere, and still I'm standing tall. I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all," Brendon sings again, moving his head to look at Ryan with a smug smile. "Cause I'm a cowboy... _Fuck_ "

Brendon shakes and trembles when Ryan sets the controls to send an electric shock. It’s barely a second, but it leaves Brendon panting heavily. Ryan spanks him again, feeling Brendon’s skin getting warmer, more sweaty now. Ryan can see Brendon’s fingers trying to grasp for something, scratching his own wrists. He’s getting desperate. Nice.

“You just need to beg for it,” Ryan says, stroking the flesh he just spanked, grabbing it hard. Brendon moves against the bench, almost humping it.

“Fuck you,” he spits, panting and moving, and now his body seems unable to stay still. Ryan knows this is it, this is the point of no return, this is where Brendon will break to get what he needs. “I can get off just like this, I don’t need you.”

“Oh, but you do,” Ryan smiles, sending another shock through Brendon’s body, making him convulse and moan loudly. “Or do you want to come with that little thing inside your cock? I wanna see you try.”

“Motherfucker,” Brendon mutters, rubbing his face against the leather, his body starting to fight the restraints. He’s so close. “Fuck. Fuck, come on. Just… Ryan, I’m dying. Just do it.”

“That’s not polite.” Ryan moves, leaning over Brendon, kissing his cheek and pressing against his body, letting him feel how impossibly hard he is. Brendon might be dying, but Ryan is about to explode. “Ask for it like a good boy,” he says almost laughing because he knows how much Brendon hates that, how much he hates pet names during sex, and it shows. Brendon shakes and tries to free himself from the ropes, hissing like a caged cat. “Shh. Easy, easy, kitty,” Ryan laughs, using his body weight to pin Brendon down. “Would it kill you to say please? Come on, baby, just a word and you’ll get it. I know you want it,” he says, kissing below Brendon’s ear, whispering. “That toy is nothing compared to my cock, forcing you open, getting so deep inside you. It’s gonna hurt so good.”

“I hate you,” Brendon pants, but he’s shivering, there are goosebumps all over his skin, and Ryan just knows. “Please. Just fuck me. Fuck me, Ryan, please. Okay? Huh?”

Ryan laughs and he can hear Brendon sighing in relief when he turns off the toy, taking it out before rubbing the head of his cock against his hole. He could do it right now, just a short, hard thrust and he’d bury himself in Brendon’s body. Just thinking about it makes him leak, and the heat of skin against skin, the way Brendon’s body just opens up for him when he pushes just a little… it’s too much, too much.

“Say it again,” Ryan orders, and he knows he might be risking too much, pushing him this way, but getting blue balls today would be nothing compared to the possibility of getting Brendon to say please one more time.

“I, _fuck_ , hate you so fucking much, Ryan. I swear to God this is the last time you touch me, you son of a fucking bitch. I don’t need your pity, don’t need your cock, don’t—“

“Baby,” Ryan smiles, pushing his cock a little bit further, then back out again. Brendon moans, long and agonizing, and Ryan knows now he’s won this round, because Brendon can curse like a sailor and threaten him and a million things more, but he hasn’t said his safe word, has he? Exactly, “say please one more time.”

There is a moment of silence, and Ryan holds his breath only so he can hear Brendon’s better. There’s almost a little cry, some whimpering and, then, surrender.

“ _Please_.” His voice is soft and meek, and his whole body shivers as he speaks, as Ryan pushes his cock in slowly, torturing. “Please.”

“That’s it, baby. So good.” It is. It is really good, so good Ryan can’t actually move faster right now because he would come.

“You’re a sadist,” Brendon groans, trying to move back, trying to get some more of Ryan.

“I’m not,” Ryan says and spanks Brendon’s asscheek hard using his hand, making him moan louder. He’s not a sadist, if he were he would never hurt Brendon the way he loves to be hurt.

Once Ryan can slide easily back and forth, the chat is over. The room fills up with moans and grunts, the sound of skin against skin, filthy noises and some bad words here and there, but mostly just fucking, just a good, hard, fast fuck. One of those it makes your whole body shiver, you get goosebumps all over your skin, and if feels like the moment you come you’ll die, and you’ll die happy. Brendon does sound like dying already.

“Ryan, please please please, let me come. Need to come. Need to. Fuck. Fuck. _Jesus Christ…_ ”

Ryan has to bite his lips hard, distract himself from the sinful sound of Brendon’s voice so he doesn’t embarrass himself. He grabs Brendon’s hair and pulls, moving him up so he can reach around Brendon’s body with his free hand, touch his cock, take the plug out. He needs to be careful, he doesn’t want to hurt Brendon, not like this, so he thrusts hard for the last time before he stops, his cock pulsing inside Brendon, his fingers sliding the little metal sound out of the already leaking hole.

Brendon moans, long and low, his whole body shaking. “Now, baby,” Ryan says, and he only needs to wrap his hand around Brendon’s cock and start fucking him again to make Brendon come with a “ _fuckfuckfuckfuck_ ” dripping out of his mouth the same way he’s dripping down Ryan’s hand. It feels… God, so good, that kind of power, not making him come with his hands or his cock or his mouth but with his words. And yeah, yeah, Ryan knows it wasn’t exactly like that, but it felt like that, it stills feels like that, and it fuels Ryan’s inner fire. It makes him thrust harder, faster, digging his fingers on Brendon’s hipbones, his hand still covered in come, and fuck him until he can’t hold it anymore, feeling his climax like a fucking explosion that turns him inside out, leaving him sweaty, panting and almost dead.

He places a soft, tired kiss on the top of Brendon’s back, moving and starting to untie the ropes around Brendon’s limbs, hearing him moan softly in relief when he’s finally able to move again. Ryan massages the marks the rope has left, just a little, while he keeps untying. Brendon is an absolute mess, and he can’t look more beautiful if he tried.

“Shower and bed?” Ryan asks, moving to get a little bottle of water, placing it between Brendon’s hands, making sure he doesn’t drop it and drinks.

“That sounds awesome,” Brendon answers after a big gulp of water. 

 

*

 

It’s actually surprising how easily they’ve fallen into this routine, Brendon coming home after work and just hanging out, having dinner together, going to the movies, even grocery shopping, then coming back home, having sex, and maybe leaving or maybe staying. Ryan wasn’t used to sharing his bed, his room, his privacy. Fucking and sleeping together are two different things, he always knew that. Fucking is fun, sleeping together is intimate. 

Maybe it was because it happened so many times, though, both of them falling asleep exhausted after sex, that Ryan started to care less about the meaning of it. First it was the bed, then it was his bed, and it didn’t mean anything more that “the playroom bed is soaked in sweat so let’s go to my room,” it’s not anything romantic. It’s practical. He and Brendon aren’t at that point of their relationship yet.

He likes Brendon. He really likes Brendon, and it’s not just about how his body seems to be made to fit his, how they seem to read each other’s minds sometimes, how the scenes play so well, how they connect so good when it comes to sex. It’s also his smile, it’s the way Brendon is always smiling, and also laughing, yeah, like everything is so funny but at the same time like he can’t be sad, like he just can be happy. It’s how being by Brendon’s side makes everything more exciting, brighter, warmer. Brendon is the summer, and fuck it because Ryan never really liked summertime but he likes Brendon. He likes Brendon a lot.

“It’s Pete’s birthday next week,” Brendon says with his phone in one hand, a french toast in the other one. Ryan looks at him but Brendon doesn’t look back, his eyes fixed on the screen. Ryan keeps eating his breakfast, waits for what Brendon is going to say next. “They usually throw this party… I mean, they celebrate it the usual way, with friends and family and stuff, but they also throw this kind of kinky party,” Brendon laughs, biting his bottom lip and making a face. “It’s like a gift to Pete, ‘cause sometimes they, uh, you know, Patrick shares Pete and stuff. But yeah, I was just wondering if you’d like to go.”

“But I don’t know them, I’ve never met them. You think…”

“No, yeah, of course. If you’re coming we’ll go to the celebration first, and then to the party. It’s a few days later. It’s totally up to you, though, if you feel like going.”

It could be interesting, meeting Brendon’s friends, seeing him with them. For now Brendon has only met Z and although their relationship has improved since the first time, Ryan knows Brendon doesn’t really get along with her that much. It would be nice if Ryan met Brendon’s friends, that way they could do more things together, go out with more people, enjoy some company.

“Sure, why not?” He answers, making Brendon smile wide, one of those smiles Ryan loves.

Going to parties is not something Ryan usually does, dinner parties, birthday parties, any party. Ryan lives up to the classic tortured writer image, even if he writes for a newspaper and it’s been long since he stopped thinking about publishing his poetry. Mostly he feels more comfortable surrounded by a small group of really close friends, meeting new people makes him feel anxious, especially when he doesn’t know what do they expect from him, who he should be. That’s why play parties are totally different. He wears his Dom role like a second skin, and not only because of how tight his clothes are. Ryan knows who he needs to be when he’s a Dom, he knows how to act, he knows what the rest of people expect from him.

Maybe he’d be even more comfortable if they were going to the play party without having to meet Pete and Patrick at the birthday party first, _in real life_. He understands it, though, and he made Brendon meet Z in the most uncomfortable way the first time, so this is fair.

“We don’t need to stay for long, but at least I want to try the cake. Patrick always chooses the best cakes ever,” Brendon says. He looks excited about the cake, or maybe it’s just his usual self standing out compared to Ryan’s nervousness. It makes Ryan smile, how childlike Brendon can be sometimes.

“We’ll eat cake,” Ryan says, looking at Brendon with half a smile. “And you can play on the trampoline too,” he mocks. Brendon laughs and sticks his tongue out.

“There is no trampoline, but I would totally play on it if there was one. You should see me doing back flips, I’m fucking awesome.”

“I bet you are.”

The house is huge, pretty in a classic way, and the back yard is big enough to fit a few trampolines. They’re in the nice part of town, Ryan wouldn’t be able to afford a house here. It’s the kind of house you would expect from someone with a Ph.D. in business or medicine, but also the kind of house you would expect from someone who organizes play parties. Being kinky is pretty expensive.

Ryan doesn’t expect to see kids running around when they get in, let alone kids running towards Brendon screaming his name. He waits there at the door while Brendon hugs the kids, ruffles their hair, asks them things people usually ask kids like when did they get so tall or if they’re having fun. Ryan is about to ask Brendon who are these kids when an adult figure appears, although Ryan should admit he didn’t notice it was an adult until they were very close.

“Brendon, you came! Kids, leave Brendon alone, will you? He’ll go play with you guys in a minute.” 

“Hey, Patrick. This is Ryan,” Brendon introduces him, and Ryan shakes Patrick’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

So this is Patrick. Brendon had talked about Patrick before, and Z too, since she knows him, but Ryan would have never imagined him like this. This guy, this blonde, short guy looks more like a life size teddy bear than anything. His blue eyes are soft and his smile is sweet, almost like his voice. Ryan can’t picture this guy giving orders.

“Come on in, almost everyone is here already.”

Ryan feels somehow safer when Brendon holds his hand, grabs it tight before walking in, Brendon is so outgoing Ryan was afraid he would disappear the moment they would get to the party. He didn’t. He’s there, and Ryan can close his eyes and breathe.

There aren’t too many people, maybe thirty, forty, and about ten of them are kids screaming and jumping and laughing. It’s not the kind of birthday party Ryan had expected, but now he understands why Pete and Patrick celebrate two kinds of parties.

“What’s with the kids?” Ryan asks when they’re walking around the back yard after meeting the birthday boy, Brendon greeting some people, introducing Ryan.

“Oh, Patrick and Pete like to celebrate their birthdays with their kids, so it’s fair to let other people bring their children too, that way the little ones don’t get too bored around adults.”

“They have kids?”

“Oh, yeah. Three of those little monsters are theirs. Actually, this is funny, I met Patrick and Pete years ago at the club, but we didn’t… I was a kid, we spent the night talking, and I guess Patrick took pity on me. They ended up hiring me to take care of their children.”

“So you were a nanny?” Ryan smiles, and Brendon laughs, nodding. They walk in silence for a few seconds, Ryan glancing at Pete, then at Patrick, watching how they talk to people, how they behave. “Are they…?”

“They’re married, like legally, but also…” Brendon looks around before he speaks again, not lower but closer to Ryan. “Pete’s collared and everything.”

“Oh.”

Ryan has never met a couple like that. He’s met married couples, of course, some of his childhood friends are married now, they have kids, the usual, but he’s never met someone who has been collared. If marrying someone was a huge commitment, marrying within the BDSM community, collaring someone was a much bigger deal. He hasn’t even met someone who has talked about wanting it, not even Z and she’s the most classic Domme Ryan has ever known.

“He’s not wearing a collar, though,” Ryan notices. Pete’s neck is naked, and he’s not wearing anything Ryan would associate with being someone’s property.

“He’s wearing his wedding ring,” Brendon says, smiling at Ryan. “You see, Pete’s an attorney, he wouldn’t be able to get away with wearing something too noticeable without people… well, noticing. So his ring is just fine when he’s in public. Patrick doesn’t like bringing BDSM elements into their public life anyway. He says that would be like forcing everyone who notices Pete’s status as a submissive to participate in their dynamic. Also he wouldn’t like if people who aren’t into it assumed things about Pete that are not true.”

“That makes sense.”

“It took me a while to understand it, that you should share your kinks with people who understand them. Like, it’s not the same you hurting me because you know I want it than you hurting me regardless of what I think. The same with people watching. It’s different watching a Dom humiliate their sub, knowing it’s their dynamic, than watching some guy humiliate his partner. The meaning changes.”

It’s true. It’s totally true. The meaning changes when you can see the whole picture, when you understand every part of it. It’s like you can see the same world with a new set of eyes. Now that he’s got new information, it’s obvious there is something between Pete and Patrick, something Ryan can’t tell but he can see, he can feel it. Maybe it’s the way they look at each other or the way they talk to each other, the way Pete always looks at Patrick right after telling a joke to see if he’s laughing, the way Patrick always laugh at them although, honestly, they’re not that funny, the way Pete is super attentive asking Patrick all the time if he needs something, if he wants a refill, if he likes the music. 

He pays attention to the pet names Patrick uses, how he calls Pete sweetheart, honey, things like that. He wonders how those pet names translate into their alone time, their play time, if those ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ are really a cover up for ‘slut’ and ‘fucktoy’, or maybe Patrick really uses ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ in bed too, maybe that’s his game, sweet pet names and painful bruises.

Ryan laughs at himself when he looks at Brendon and some images cross his mind, Brendon behaving like that, Brendon behaving, period. He’s almost forgotten what the word ‘behave’ means, every time he’s used it to make Brendon do something he’s earned the exact opposite reaction. Brendon doesn’t like behaving, he doesn’t like to be tamed.

“Have you ever thought of that? Someday having what they have?” Ryan asks, pointing at the couple with his eyes. Brendon laughs and shakes his head.

“No. I used to, when I was younger, but just because I thought that was the right thing to do, that was what I had to do,” Brendon says, and Ryan listens closely. “No I know it’s not something I want or I’ll ever want. It’s just not me.”

“Hmm.” Ryan just nods. If that’s what Brendon thinks, then he’ll respect it. He can’t change his mind nor he intends to. It’s too soon anyway, to think about what he wants in the future, if Brendon will be in that future, so it doesn’t matter what Ryan feels now. It’s true seeing Pete and Patrick living happily ever after makes him wonder how would it be, to settle down, to have a family, to share everything, including his deepest secrets, with someone else, with someone who understands him, with someone who likes every part of him and wants it. He never thought about it because he never thought about the possibility, but he has to admit it’s a nice feeling, it’s a nice view.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

“Hey, they’re cutting the birthday cake!” Brendon grabs Ryan’s arm and pulls. “Let’s go!”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for your kudos and comments and love. I'm so happy you're enjoying this so far!!

 

 

“Say the magic word.”

“Fuck you.”

Ryan grabs him by his neck and squeezes until Brendon is gasping for air, thrusting harder. Yeah, he was kind of asking for it.

Sometimes Brendon doesn’t know why he keeps teasing Ryan even when he’s already hit his own limit, when he can’t take anything else, when everything starts feeling too much. It’s like his mind overpowers his body, and he knows he will eventually give up and give Ryan what he wants, but at least he will make Ryan work for it. 

He’s never done something like that before, before meaning with someone that isn’t Ryan. He’s never put too much effort in sex either as he does now, nor he’s ever enjoyed it this much. Before meeting Ryan, sex was just a physical need and the other person just a tool to get what he wanted. He had tried doing it by himself, getting off, and of course he could masturbate like any other person but pain always felt better when inflicted by someone else. Trying to make yourself feel pain is kind of like trying to tickle yourself, you can get close to a point but it will always lack that element of surprise.

He’s starting to feel a little dizzy when Ryan slaps him across his face, bringing him back to reality. Jesus fuck, his cock is going to burst.

“Fuck, please… Shit!” Brendon groans and Ryan laughs out loud.

“Wow, that was easy,” Ryan mocks and Brendon is about to reply something sassy, something that would probably make this torture even longer, but Ryan’s hand wraps around his cock and suddenly nothing matters anymore. Everything is pure bliss, heaven. “Isn’t this so much better? See what you get when you behave?” Ryan whispers, kissing the back of Brendon’s ear, biting him hard and making him moan, “Good boys get nice things.”

“‘Mnot your bitch,” Brendon says, or he tries, his words coming out trembling as he is, his body seeking Ryan’s touch, melting.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Ryan smiles, pressing his nose to Brendon’s cheek and looking down when he starts stroking Brendon’s cock, his other hand holding the sound plugging him and sliding it out slowly, only to push it back in. It makes Brendon scream, twisting against the sheets, feeling his wrists sore under the rope tying them together behind his back. He’s so fucking uncomfortable, his whole body hurts from the previous flogging, and he’s damp in sweat, but now Ryan is stroking his cock with his hand and fucking it with the metal sound at the same time, he’s jerking him off from the inside and out, and Brendon is going to fucking lose it.

“Please, please, please. Ryan, please, I can’t. I’m… I’m gonna die.” He is, Brendon is sure he is, sooner than later, his body is going to give up. It’s too much.

Ryan looks at him from above and, right now, he looks like some kind of celestial figure, only so fucking sinful with his red swollen lips and his wet hair and his ragged breath. He doesn’t stop, not one bit, he keeps fucking him, jerking him off, moving that wicked thing in and out of him, but he stares at Brendon the whole time, licking his lips, leaning in to breathe on his mouth.

“Are you uncomfortable, baby?” He asks, swallowing and biting his lips when Brendon just nods, looking at him in the eyes like he can’t look anywhere else. “Yeah? Does it hurt?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Brendon moans, fighting not to close his eyes, the sensation so overwhelming. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“And you love it, don’t you?” Ryan smiles mischievous, nodding himself. “God, you love it so much, baby boy.”

“Ryan,” Brendon urges, looking at him pleading, gasping for air. “Fuck me. Fuck me, hurt me… Please, make me come,” he whispers, his eyes locked on Ryan’s, his words melting against Ryan’s lips.

“So polite,” Ryan kisses him, right there, he kisses him rough and wet and dirty, biting his lips hard and licking his tongue, his hands moving to hold Brendon’s hips down afters he takes the metal sound away. “You can come now,” he says, and part of Brendon doesn’t want to come the very second he hears Ryan because he doesn’t want to give him that power, to let him think he’s coming just because he’s said so, but Jesus Christ, he needs to come so bad.

“I hate y-“ He can’t even finish the sentence, his whole body shaking, twisting in pleasure, a burning delicious feeling pooling in his lower belly before it explodes and he feels it everywhere. He feels it inside his balls and around his cock, on his nipples and his toes and every hair that stands on end, inside his body, his ass, where Ryan keeps fucking him and Brendon just can squeeze him tight. He’s fucking screaming. Ryan’s neighbors must hate him.

“You don’t,” Ryan replies, pulling out when Brendon’s body allows it, moving up and jerking off in front of Brendon’s face. “Open up those pretty lips,” he commands. Brendon wants to say something witty like his lips are already open because he’s panting, but his brain refuses to work and then Ryan pushes his bottom lip down with his thumb, caressing his tongue. “Yeah, like that. Fuck.” It’s the last thing Brendon hears before he feels Ryan coming all over his mouth, his tongue, part of his face, the warm fluid dripping down his chin.

He’s too mesmerized to register when Ryan moves and leans in, licking his chin up and kissing him deep, pushing his tongue inside his mouth once again, making Brendon swallow, making him taste it. He must be crazy but it tastes delicious. It tastes so good, Ryan’s come in his tongue, making the kiss hot and messy, so dirty, so perfect.

“Jesus Fuck I love you,” he whispers when he’s able to speak again, looking at Ryan’s eyes, both of them panting. He realizes what he’s said probably too long after he’s said it, their noses still touching, their eyes still locked. Brendon swallows and blinks, moving a little. “Untie me?” 

“Yes. Sure, yes,” Ryan nods, blinking a couple of times too before he moves, like he had just broken the spell he was under. Brendon waits while Ryan cuts the ropes around his wrists, closing his eyes and breathing deep. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Brendon nods and moves a little when Ryan lies down again by his side, pushing one of his arms under Brendon’s head and pulling him in, making him use his chest as a pillow. Brendon is used to it, so he just sighs and smiles a little, closing his eyes again.

“Everything okay?” Ryan asks against Brendon’s hair, lowering his voice. Brendon just nods. He doesn’t really feel like talking right now. Ryan makes some agreement noise and doesn’t say anything else, but Brendon can hear him thinking, he can hear Ryan’s thoughts running around in his head. “Brendon, I…”

“Do you mind if I sleep a little? I promise I’ll be up in time for the party, just a quick nap.”

“Sure, anything you want,” Ryan answers quickly and Brendon nods, making himself comfortable and getting ready to sleep.

 

*

 

It was his idea. Sex before going to the party, that way they wouldn’t get too horny and look like a couple of virgin kids watching their first porno. Brendon didn’t really care about getting horny, to be honest, he never was a visual person, also he doesn’t get off on the kind of kinky things Pete and Patrick will allow there. Or so he thinks. But Ryan…

“So, tell me a little, what should I expect?”

“Uh…”

He’s not jealous. Okay? Brendon is not a jealous person, he doesn’t mind Ryan talking to other guys, friends, not friends, finding other people attractive and stuff, okay? That’s totally normal. They’ve even talked about it together, Hollywood actors, famous musicians, who would you fuck, what would you do, how big do you think his dick is. He wouldn’t get jealous of Ryan’s thoughts on random people. Real people, on the other hand, real people fucking in front of you, real submissive people doing everything Ryan likes and Brendon could never enjoy doing, ready and open and eager for a nice Dom to please… That scares him a little more.

“I mean, like, do they do it at home? Do they have a theme? Do they…?”

“Not at home, no,” Brendon answers, making a face, “the kids are home and I don’t think they would have enough room there anyway. They rent this kind of private dungeon, they have security and everything, and your name must be on the list for you to get in. And I know they have a dress code, but they don’t throw theme parties, or so I know. I’m pretty sure just wearing all black is cool, but not like… black jeans and t-shirt, I mean putting some effort.”

“So, let me…” Ryan moves out of the bed, opening his closet and looking around while Brendon stares at him from the bed. He watches him pull out some clothes. “I can wear suit pants, black shirt, this vest. It’s kinda gothic, don’t you think? I have also this military black jacket and…” And then he turns around, looking at Brendon while he puts on a pair of black leather driving gloves. “These too. What do you think?” 

“Uh. They… are…” Brendon didn’t know he had a thing for gloves. He never had a thing for gloves before. He just. His mouth is getting dry. He needs to swallow. “I. Yeah. Good.”

“Great. Now we need to think what are you wearing.”

At least his body can’t get a boner yet. 

It’s funny because Brendon never cared too much about clothing, he wasn’t into the whole paraphernalia of latex and PVC and leather and vinyl, the masks, the chains, the collars. He could understand how that would add meaning to a D/s relationship, but it didn’t mean anything to him. Never an outfit turned him on, nor he thought about wearing anything for it, mostly because his previous relationships and hookups didn’t require much preparation.

Now, looking at what those gloves have made him feel (and he’s not so sure about the reason, maybe it’s thinking how good a spanking would feel with those on), he wonders if there’s something Ryan would like for him too, if there’s some kind of clothing Ryan would like him on.

“You can choose, you know?” He says, trying to sound totally honest. “I don’t care about clothes, I can wear anything. So you can choose, if there’s something you like best.”

 

*

 

So it turns out Ryan does have pieces of clothing he likes the best and, as a result, Brendon ends up going to the party like he’s never been seen before. He doesn’t feel ridiculous or anything, Brendon doesn’t think he could ever feel ridiculous wearing anything, but it sure is weird and kind of out of place for a moment, at least while they’re still at home. It’s nothing too extreme, Brendon was ready to wear fishnet stockings and stilettos if Ryan had asked him too, he wouldn’t have minded, so this outfit is actually pretty toned down compared with what Brendon was expecting. Still, it’s not him.

Leather boots and leather pants, that wasn’t really a problem, he had both things in his wardrobe, and he was pretty comfortable wearing them. He liked leather pants, he liked how it fit his legs, how it showed his well rounded ass. He would usually wear them with a plain white t-shirt, maybe a shirt if he wanted a more put together look. He wasn’t wearing any of that now, the only thing covering his chest being a black leather harness going up, down and around his upper body. It felt even weirder walking out of the house with Ryan fully clothed by his side, getting in the car, driving to the place. 

“You look so fucking hot,” Ryan says, looking at him in a way that makes Brendon know he’s not lying. Brendon laughs, smirks a little.

“Of course I do.” He doesn’t really think so, he doesn’t find himself sexy, never has, but Ryan does and that’s all that matters.

It’s not difficult to get there, and Brendon feels a little less self-conscious when he sees more people dressing for the occasion. Doms are mostly full covered, while subs show more flesh. Brendon can’t help looking at both of them and thinking it’s obvious what they’re pretending to be tonight. No matter how much he verbally fights everyone who calls him Ryan’s sub, it shows that, at least, he’s not Ryan’s Dom.

Brendon gets a little nervous when the guy at the door check their names on the list, worried in case Patrick forgot to add them. Once they’re in, a girl completely naked except for a solid black rubber hood with just a hole for her mouth to breathe receives them on her knees, offering Ryan a welcome bag when her Domme tugs on her leash.

“Brendon, wow, never thought I’d see you here,” the Domme greets him with a smile. She’s Crystal, he met her a couple of years ago through Pete, he doesn’t know who the sub is, but Brendon doesn’t think she’s in the best place to introduce herself right now anyway. “And you are?” She asks, turning her head to look at Ryan.

“Ryan, nice to meet you.” He shakes her hand when she replies with a “Crystal, you too,” looking at both of them before welcoming them to the party, telling them about the private rooms and the public rooms, and asking them to get together in the main room around 10 p.m. for Pete’s surprise.

“Are they here already?” Brendon asks while Ryan opens the bag and looks inside.

“I haven’t seen Pete yet, but I know Patrick is around. He’s not gonna be happy when he sees you, though,” she says, pointing at Brendon’s neck. “You’re not following the dress code.”

“I am,” Brendon replies, but she just shrugs.

“If you say so… I don’t make the rules here, honey. Have a nice night.”

There are a lot of people there already, some of them getting flogged, some others being walked around on their knees like dogs, but most of them are just dancing, chatting, eating snacks and drinking sodas because Patrick would never allow drinking alcohol at one of his play parties.

“Babe, look at this. There are two metal cat eye masks and a mini hand flogger,” Ryan says, showing Brendon the content of the bag. “So nice of them,” he says, putting on one of the masks, looking at Brendon. It looks good on Ryan, but everything looks good on Ryan. 

They walk around the place, Brendon wants to see the private rooms and their themes because, as much as he’s so outgoing and extroverted, he doesn’t like people watching him play. He’s never done anything in public and he doesn’t think he will ever do. He’s not even sure they will end up using one of the private rooms since this morning session left him exhausted, but just in case he wants to check the options.

“Aren’t they the same as every year?” Ryan asks after he watches Brendon walk out of two rooms totally disappointed. A classroom and a doctor’s office aren’t places Brendon would find sexy at all.

“I don’t know. It’s the first time I can come here,” Brendon answers, laughing and making a face when Ryan frowns. “Well, uh. This party is just for couples, you see? Like, you can’t come on your own. It doesn’t have to be like… You don’t need to be in a committed relationship, but you need to…”

“Oh. Okay, cool. Then it’s the first time for both of us,” Ryan smiles, and Brendon smiles back too, able to breathe properly again.

The next room they find is something like a Satanic worship room, with a cage and a St Andrew’s Cross, a bondage cross, candles, ropes, paddles, riding crops and even a goddamned baseball bat. It’s by far Brendon’s favorite, not because of the religious implications but because the things in it fit his needs so much better.

They’re heading back to the main room when they meet Patrick. He’s wearing a well fitting red suit, red bow tie, along with a black shirt, boots, and gloves. That’s how Brendon realizes he doesn’t really have a thing for gloves, he just has a thing for anything Ryan wears.

“You can’t be here like this,” Patrick says the moment they’re face to face, Brendon knowing exactly what he means.

“Whoah, nice to see you too,” he laughs, trying to play it down. “Patrick, come on. It’s me.”

“You know the rules, Brendon. The sub must wear a collar, I don’t care what kind of collar, but you must wear one. It’s either that or you’re out.”

“But I’m not a sub! Why don’t you ask him to wear it? He could be the sub,” Brendon rants while Patrick looks more and more annoyed.

“Well, he doesn’t look like one. He looks like a Dom, so I bet no one is going to approach him or touch him without permission. You, on the other hand, as much as you like to scream you’re not a sub, sure as hell don’t look like a Dom, even less when you came here with someone who _is_ a Dom,” Patrick says, calm but firm. “The only guys here without a collar are the ones for the slave auction, and until they’re sold, people can approach them, touch them, fucking inspect them, ask their limits, all that shit, Brendon.”

“… Oh.” He didn’t know that.

“Yeah. _Oh._ So you tell me what is it going to be.”

“But… I don’t have a collar…” Brendon says. He doesn’t, and he can’t think of anything he could use as one, but he understands now why Patrick asked everyone not to violate the dress code and now he kind of feels a little bit stupid for not paying closer attention.

He can see Patrick is getting tired, and now that he knows the reason behind the dress code, he’s not sure he wants to stay without a collar either. If some random guy starts touching him like he’s some kind of soulless piece of meat things can get ugly pretty easily. 

“Wait a second,” Ryan suddenly says, and he runs back to the private rooms until he disappears. Brendon doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t know what he has in mind, but he doubts there’s anything in those rooms he could use as a collar, unless Ryan plans on creating one with hickeys around his neck. That thought may or may not make Brendon shiver a little. When Ryan comes back he looks a little disappointed. “Sorry, I thought the knives would be sharp. Patrick, do you have some scissors or something sharp?”

Patrick looks confused but not as much as Brendon is. He hesitates for a minute before he puts his hand in his pocket and gets a set of keys, looking a Ryan once more before he moves, walking a few steps to one of the rooms they haven’t visit yet and, by the look of it, they couldn’t have done it if they tried. The room is locked shut, and Patrick uses one of the keys to open it, getting inside for a few seconds and leaving the door ajar. Brendon can’t help trying to sneak a look inside, catching a glimpse of what looks like medieval torturing devices, a literal dungeon.

“Here,” Patrick says when he’s back, handing Ryan a razor blade. “I hope you’re not thinking about edge play because that’s against the house rules too. We don’t have…”

“Don’t worry,” Ryan cuts him with a smile, taking the razor blade and getting the mini flogger out of the welcome bag, using the blade to cut one of the leather strips. He gives the razor blade back to Patrick, leaving the rest of the things on the nearest surface. “Can I?” He asks Brendon, holding the leather strip, and Brendon finds himself swallowing hard as he nods.

It probably takes a few seconds, Ryan moving behind Brendon, putting the leather strip around his neck, tying it back and using a finger between the strip and Brendon’s neck so it’s not too tight. It feels like an eternity for Brendon, his heart suddenly pumping hard, his body gaining temperature, his legs fighting for standing in place. It’s like he’s being caged. He knows this improvised collar means nothing but his body doesn’t seem to care, the feeling is still the same. It’s the leather around his necks, Ryan’s fingers brushing his skin, the air getting thicker around them. It’s like he’s being caged, and still in some fucked up way he likes it.

“Is this okay?” Ryan asks Patrick, and Brendon swallows again just to feel the collar getting tighter around his neck.

“It’s good enough,” Patrick finally says, and Ryan smiles again, looking at Brendon. Brendon smiles back, or so he tries. “We should head to the main room. The birthday party is about to start.” Patrick looks at both of them again before leaving, and Brendon waits a moment before following him, looking back at Ryan to see he’s walking with him. 

The first thing that catches Brendon’s eye when they get to the main room is Pete collared and almost naked, his wrists cuffed and chained to the ceiling in the middle of the stage. Everyone else is there too, Doms sitting on the couches and at some of the few tables around there, subs sitting on the floor, at their Doms feet. For a moment, when Ryan sits down on one of the couches, he wants to sit by his side, but Patrick is on the stage now too, a braided flogger in hand, waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive, and Brendon doesn’t want to ruin everyone’s mood.

“You okay?” Ryan whispers when Brendon takes his place at his feet, holding his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Brendon just nods, using Ryan’s thigh to rest his head. If this is the price to pay it’s not that bad.

In the next few hours Brendon learns it’s a tradition for Pete and Patrick to celebrate Pete’s birthday with a public flogging, adding each year one more blow to match Pete’s age. Pete is forced to count them, but the public does too, everybody giving him a round of applause when it’s over, congratulating him, wishing him happy birthday. Patrick then unties him and puts him on a leash, offering him to every Dom and Domme in the room to put his mouth to good use.

It’s not a shock for Brendon watching them do these things, he’s already seen Pete and Patrick play at the club sometimes. Patrick never takes off his clothes, he never uses Pete sexually in public, but he allows Pete to be used by other Doms as long as he’s there to supervise it. Now, though, he’s kind of nervous, not because everybody is losing clothes and engaging in sexual activities, not because he’s watching one of his best friend deepthroating some masked guy, but because Ryan is there, Ryan is a Dom, and Brendon doesn’t have any power right now. If someone offers their sub to Ryan right now, if Patrick, for God’s sake, does, Ryan can say yes and Brendon can do nothing about it.

Maybe that’s why his body reacts before his mind thinks, and he’s rubbing his cheek against Ryan’s inner thigh before he can register it. Ryan looks at him and frowns, but there’s a little smile on his face, a confused one. He pets Brendon’s hair, lowering his hand down to stroke his cheek, touch his lips with his thumb. Brendon takes it in his mouth, looking back at him.

“I thought you didn’t like…” Ryan’s breath catches in his throat when Brendon licks the pad of his finger. “There are people around.”

“I can be better than any of them,” Brendon says, moving forward to press his nose against Ryan’s crotch, then moving up, climbing him. “I want to sit on your lap, _sir_ ,” he says when he’s already there, Ryan’s hands automatically moving to his ass, holding him.

“I… uh…” Ryan looks shocked, surprised, and his face looks kind of dumb so Brendon laughs, biting his bottom lip and rocking his hips. He observes Ryan, how his cheeks get color, how his breath gets heavier, how he swallows. “You’re already better than anyone here. Than anyone. Ever.”

“Why don’t you take me to that room? Wanna get on your nerves until you fuck the shit out of me, _fuck_.” Ryan hooks a finger on his collar and pulls hard, making their noses crash before he kisses him dirty, biting him, licking the inside of his mouth while he digs his other hand’s nails on Brendon’s ass.

“I could fuck the shit out of you right now, right here, in front of everyone,” Ryan smiles, thrusting his hips, his finger still hooked on Brendon’s collar. “Don’t you want them to see how much better than them you are?” He asks, moving his other hand up to the front of Brendon’s pants, pressing the heel of his palm between Brendon’s legs. 

Brendon feels his mouth getting dry, a hot wave of arousal running up his legs but also a cold shiver running down his spine. He feels the fear of not knowing if Ryan is actually meaning what he’s saying, and just thinking about the possibility is making him sweat. He doesn’t know if he should mock him, if he should challenge him, if he should act like he doesn’t care, or if he should say please, don’t, sir, please. For some reason, though, it seems like his brain doesn’t think saying his safeword is an option.

 

*

 

He doesn’t know how they get to the satanic room but they do and Brendon is glad for that. He’s also glad to realize they’re still young enough for their bodies to be able to fuck like animals twice on the same day, although that makes his plan of getting Ryan off before going to a party so he can’t get turned on there totally useless. Another thing he’s glad for is at least Ryan chose him to get off again instead of any other sub at the party, so that’s good. Maybe he’s also glad to know he can’t take a baseball bat up the ass (yet), but it’s funny thinking about Ryan threatening him with it.

“I could crawl on a leash right now and I wouldn’t mind,” Brendon says making Ryan laugh. It’s true, he’s exhausted. In fact, crawling seems more appealing than walking right now.

“Don’t be a baby, it wasn’t that much. I didn’t even leave any marks…”

“Cause I have them already from this morning’s scene,” Brendon replies, looking at Ryan dirty, making him laugh even more.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who _loves_ pain? Just pain, not any other power play bullshit or D/s stuff?” Ryan mocks him.

“I love the kind of pain that turns me on. Sore muscles after sex don’t turn me on…”

Brendon can see Ryan wants to say something else, but a voice starts to announce the slave auction is about to start. Brendon has been curious about that slave auction thing since Patrick mentioned it. The truth is he has no idea what a slave auction is really about, and though he trusts his friends not to be some kind of psychos trading real people into slavery, he doesn’t really know what to expect from it.

They go back to the main room where everyone is sitting the same as before, only there’s a group of around ten, maybe fifteen uncollared subs waiting in line on the stage where Pete was before. Brendon takes his places at Ryan’s feet and waits, snuggling between Ryan’s legs. It doesn’t feel that bad when he doesn’t think he’s sitting on the floor because he has to.

“Welcome, friends, to our annual slave auction,” Patrick says when he gets up the stage. “This year the money we raise will go to the Make-A-Wish Foundation, as our birthday boy has decided. I remind you only Dominants can bid in this auction, there are no limits of slaves you can purchase, and the slaves will belong to their owner for 24 hours starting the moment this party is over. Now, if you don’t have any questions, let’s begin.”

So this is it, this is what the slave auction is for. It’s a cool idea, raising money in Pete’s name for a charity as a birthday gift while having some fun within the community. Brendon wonders if anyone can offer themselves to be a slave for the event or if they need to be owned already by someone, being their owners the ones who submitted them for it. 

A guy in a dog mask distributes cards with numbers on them between the audience while the first slave takes her place in the middle of the stage. Patrick says her name and numbers her soft limits, hard limits, and the things she loves to do while Crystal strips her carefully for the audience to check her body. People start raising their cards, three hundred bucks, four hundred, five hundred. Subs with fewer limits brought a higher price.

Brendon is mesmerized by the subs on the stage, how they stay quiet, looking shy and meek. After they’re sold, the temporary owner comes on stage and collar them, taking them down and keeping them at their feet with the rest of subs. He’s not paying attention to Ryan, he supposes he’s just enjoying the show like the rest of them. That’s why it surprises him when he hears Patrick announcing the slave being auctioned is sold to number 32. He needs to look back at Ryan’s card to confirm that’s his number.

He waits there on the floor, feeling Ryan move to stand up and go to the stage, putting a collar Crystal offers him around the sub’s neck, a pretty blonde girl with perky tits and a shy smile. Brendon is sure he’s heard her name but right now he doubts he could remember even his own. He just can look at Ryan, walking back to his seat with that girl walking behind him, smiling at Brendon before he sits again, before the girl sits on the floor next to him.

“Hi, I’m Sophie,” the girl whispers, smiling at Brendon. “What’s your name?”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, I can't believe how supportive you all are, your comments, your kudos, mean the world to me. Thank you so much once again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. There's only two more left!

 

 

It’s 7 o’ clock in the morning when Ryan’s alarm goes off. He doesn’t need to get up so early but he’s never had anyone chained to a bed during a whole night. Before he left the party Sophie’s true Master gave him a contract with Sophie’s limits and conditions for Ryan to sign. She likes isolation and sensory deprivation, but still, Ryan doesn’t feel too comfortable leaving her alone for so many hours. 

It wasn’t his first idea, coming home from the party and get his new and temporary slave to his dungeon, chaining her ankles to the bed, and going to sleep. He thought maybe they could play a little, they could have some fun, the three of them, but Brendon said he needed to get up early in the morning, something work related, so he asked Ryan to bring him home. His own home. Ryan tried to argue his house was actually closer to Brendon’s work than Brendon’s, but Brendon said something about needing some things he had at home. He wasn’t too specific.

Ryan has texted him good morning the moment he woke up but he hasn’t gotten a reply yet. Maybe Brendon is already at work, God knows why anyone in Brendon’s field would be working at 7 a.m., or maybe he’s not up yet. Those are the two options.

“Good morning, Master,” Sophie says when Ryan gets in the room, lowering her eyes. Ryan wonders how long has she been up, if she’s slept at all. He gets closer to unchain her, stroking with his thumb the mark the belt has left on her ankle.

“Good morning. You can use the bathroom now, do everything you need. When you’re done, come to the kitchen for breakfast, okay?”

“Yes, Master,” she nods, keeping her head low while he looks at her, not moving until Ryan walks away again, closing the door behind him and going to the kitchen. He’s starving.

Scrambled eggs, bacon, and french toasts with a nice big cup of coffee have replaced those bowls of stale cereals and burnt coffee Ryan’s breakfast used to be. Brendon totally improved Ryan’s breakfasts, although that doesn’t mean he improved Ryan’s cooking skills. By the time Sophie gets to the kitchen, Ryan has managed to undercook the eggs and overcook the toasts. At least the bacon and the coffee are good.

“There’s orange juice in the fridge if you don’t like coffee. And… I guess there must be some cereal around if you don’t like the rest, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Ryan says, putting down on the table two plates and two mugs. He sits down, taking a sip of his coffee and grabbing the fork to start eating, only he notices Sophie is still standing there, looking down. “You can sit, okay?” He says, and the girl nods, taking a seat in front of him. She stays there, though, not doing anything. “You don’t like the food?”

“I like anything you like, Master,” she answers. Ryan takes a deep breath. Okay, okay, he’s the one messing this up, he should get in the role already or this poor girl would have the most boring time of her life.

“Then eat, slave! And don’t forget to thank your Master for sharing his food with you,” he commands with a stronger voice. Sophie jumps and blushes, taking her plate quickly and nodding. 

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

Ryan watches her eat and sighs. This is so not what he had in mind.

He remembers that first time Brendon stayed the night and had breakfast with him the morning after. Ryan thought it would be awkward, but somehow Brendon made him feel comfortable, like what happened the night before, or that very morning, was totally natural. They even joked about it that time, Ryan doesn’t remember exactly about what, but he remembers he still had a smile on his face once he was home alone again.

That’s something he can do around Brendon, drop his guard. He doesn’t need to be a Dom 24/7 with Brendon, he doesn’t need to have everything in control, put together, better, smarter, stronger. In fact, Ryan is sure Brendon wouldn’t mind if Ryan was never like that as long as they still understood each other in bed as well as they’ve been doing until now. Brendon doesn’t need him to be a Dom because Brendon doesn’t need a Dom.

This is his fault, what he has become. He’s gotten lazy, sloppy, so much he doesn’t even know what to do with that girl in his kitchen when just a few months ago he could have made her shake in fear with just a look. He should work on it unless he wants to lose everything he’s got.

“Come here, let me look at you,” Ryan says when Sophie finishes her breakfast, moving his hand towards her. She stands up quickly, moving until she’s facing him. “Did you clean yourself?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Did you take a shower? Wash everything dirty?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you put on the same old dirty clothes you had?” He asks. The girl blushes instantly, struggling to answer, mouthing something that sounds like ‘yes, Master’. Ryan makes a face. “Did I tell you you could wear clothes around the house?”

She hesitates to answer.

“No, Master.”

 

*

 

Ryan can’t remember the last time he used a rubber straitjacket, a blindfold, and noise-canceling headphones. Just the first item would make Brendon run away and never come back. Sophie, on the other hand, is taking her punishment gladly, kneeling in the middle of the room, not moving an inch. Ryan is playing some classical music on her headphones to cancel any possible noise that can filter in from the outside. He’s told her he’s leaving her there alone until she learns how to behave herself. He would never leave anyone alone like that, of course, but she doesn’t know that.

Brendon hasn’t replied yet, and Ryan sits on the bed, looking at the girl while he dials Brendon’s number. It’s not normal he hasn’t called already, texted, anything. Usually by lunch Ryan already knows about Brendon, if he’s coming, if they’re going out, if they’re staying home.

“Hey, you’re coming home after work, right?” Ryan asks the moments he hears Brendon picking up the phone. Brendon laughs before he says anything, and Ryan smiles, closing his eyes, watching behind his eyelids the face that matches that laugh.

“Hello to you too. Why so eager, man? Is being a slave owner not work enough for you?” Brendon jokes.

“I’m teaching some discipline right now. I can’t allow any disobedience,” Ryan says, laughing too. “But I can’t start the fun until you come home. I have this pretty cool scene in mind where…”

“Yeah. Ryan. Sorry, I can’t. I can’t come today,” Brendon cuts him before he can explain his really good idea, the one he had in mind since last night, since the first time he raised his card. “You see, this… One of my coworkers, her brother, I think, had an accident or something. She called to say she can’t come to work today, so I have to cover her shift.”

“Oh, shit, is she okay?” Ryan frowns, shifting his weight on the bed.

“I don’t. I haven’t talked to her yet. Uh. But that’s the thing, I can’t… I’m working late today. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, babe, don’t worry. Do you want me to pick you up when you’re done? You just need to call me and…”

“No. No, it’s fine. I have my car. Everything’s fine,” Brendon says, staying silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. “Talk to you later, okay? Gotta go.”

“Oka—“ Brendon hangs up before Ryan can say good bye. For a moment, Ryan doesn't know what to do. Something is clearly off but he doesn't want to think Brendon is lying to him, he doesn't want to think he did something to make Brendon lie to him.

He does something he's never done before. He leaves his sub alone. Ryan needs to get out of the room, at least for a few minutes, because he feels too confused right now. It's the first time Brendon is acting like this. Usually, it's Brendon the one who calls him and plans things and can't wait for them to meet. Brendon joking and mocking him but also acting playful and sometimes childish.

It would be a lie to say he doesn't feel a little humiliated while he presses call once again. He shouldn't need to do these things, he's never needed to do these things, never before a sub has talked to him this way, never he's been treated this way. He feels getting more and more upset, but mostly he feels hurt. He doesn't know what's happening and he's not sure he knows how to manage it.

"Brendon, what is it?" He asks the moment Brendon picks up.

"What?" Brendon sounds normal, he sounds cool, Ryan can even feel that goofy smile on his face and that confuses him even more. Is Brendon that good of an actor or is Ryan going crazy?"

“Is there something wrong? I feel like there's something wrong. What is it?” Ryan asks again, and Brendon softens his voice a little when he answers this time.

“Just work, Ryan. Don’t worry about me, okay? You have fun.”

Have fun. That’s easy to say. Ryan never really had any difficulty having fun but lately it was different. Having fun without Brendon was almost the same as not having fun at all.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He needs to be sure. He can't hang up without being sure.

"I'm okay, Ryan. Don't worry. I need to go now, okay?"

“Okay…” 

He looks at the phone when the call is over, walking back to the room, dragging his feet on the floor. He should feel better now, but nothing feels right. There's a knot in his stomach and he feels guilty even if he doesn't know why, like there's something he could do to fix this but he's not doing it because he doesn't even know if there's something to fix.

Ryan puts the phone down on the bed and looks at the girl in front of him. He's not in the mood to play anymore.

 

*

 

Sophie leaves the house when her real Master comes to pick her up five hours before her time to go. It doesn't make any sense to have her there anymore and Ryan starts running out of ideas. He doesn't feel like being a Dom. He feels like being Ryan, just Ryan, and he'd love for someone to cuddle with him in bed and allow him to feel that way without any judgment.

He doesn’t want to call Brendon, though. He’s hurt and he’s upset, and he’s also angry because he doesn’t even fully understand why he’s hurt and upset. Something is going on and he wants to know what is it, he wants to confront Brendon and ask him, demand him to tell him the truth, but he can’t face another rejection. Right now he wouldn’t be able to stand Brendon blatantly lying to his face.

Brendon will come back eventually, he’s never spent too much time away from Ryan and it can’t be that bad, right? They were great not even a day ago and nothing bad happened, they didn’t fight, they didn’t get mad at each other, nothing happened. Whatever it is, it must be in Brendon’s head. Maybe he thinks they’re gone too far too fast and wants to slow down, Ryan would understand that. Maybe he’s actually tired because of his job and he’s having a bad day (although Ryan has seen those days, and nothing gets Brendon’s problems out of his mind like a good nice scene). Maybe he’s found someone else… but that seems unprovable. Brendon is not an easy person to be with, he’s not approachable that way, and Doms… other Doms, most of them, wouldn’t want someone like Brendon. He wouldn’t find someone else, Brendon wouldn’t find another Dom. Unless it’s not a Dom what he’s found.

Ryan is getting anxious, he should stop thinking stupid things.

Going to Z’s place seems the best option the day after, when he wakes up and there’s still no call from Brendon, no message from Brendon, no nothing from Brendon. He has breakfast looking at the phone, he can’t write for shit, and he walks out the door the minute he’s finished lunch, texting Z he’s coming when he’s already on the way.

He doesn’t tell her, though. The last thing Ryan needs right now is Z telling him how stupid he is for trusting someone like Brendon or some shit like that. God knows those two never really got along together, and as much as Ryan right now is thinking about every reason why bringing Brendon into his life was a bad idea, he has enough with his own brain, he doesn’t need Z’s too. In fact, a part of him is sure he’s overreacting.

Shit. Fuck. Why does this happen to him?

“Where’s your puppy?” Z asks when she opens the door. Of course she would ask, it’s not usual seeing Ryan alone lately. Z started calling Brendon puppy because of that, because she said he looked like a hyper, untrained, and clingy puppy. Ryan kind of agrees.

“Working,” Ryan answers. He guesses Brendon is working, he can’t be a hundred percent sure. “Why, you miss him?”

“Like crazy. Come on in.”

She lights a cigarette while the walk across the living room, offering Ryan something to drink. He almost wants to ask for a cigarette right now. He quit years ago, but right now it seems like the perfect time for a relapse.

“So, what do you need? Why are you here? I thought you were done with the needles,” she says, sitting down on the couch and looking at Ryan with a suspicious face.

“Can’t I just visit my best friend?”

“You can, but you usually do it later, on the weekends, and when there’s something going on. Let’s be honest, Ryan, you don’t really leave your house a lot unless there’s a purpose.”

“I was just bored… Brendon has been working a lot, and now I’m used to having company.” It’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth either.

“So I’m the replacement,” Z says, laughing. Ryan laughs too.

“Exactly.”

She doesn’t ask again, maybe because she buys it or maybe because she’s smart enough to wait for it. However it is, Ryan lets himself be distracted by Z’s stories. She always has something to say, she’s always done something new, met someone new, tried new things. She’s a people’s person. She’s a lot like Brendon.

“So how was the party? You went to Patrick’s annual play party, right?” She asks. Of course she knows, she knows Patrick after all, she knows Brendon is friend with him. “Was it any good. They’re pretty famous. Maybe next year I’ll drag one of my bitches there and check it for myself.”

Ryan laughs and rubs his face, rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t want to, he knows doing that he’s showing he’s nervous, but he can’t help it. He tries to play it cool, since he really can’t deny it. If he lies to Z about the party and she finds out, there will be no place on earth where he could hide from her rage. So he tells her about it, about the place, about the rooms, about the things they did and about the slave auction. 

He doesn’t really want to talk about how things went with Sophie, he still feels like he embarrassed himself with that girl, like he didn’t prove himself a good Dom with her, but Z will find out sooner or later, so he better tell her now and get over with it.

“… It was nice, trying that Master/slave dynamic for a day. I couldn’t do everything I had planned, though. My scenes involved Brendon, but something happened at work and he had to leave. It’ll be better next time, I hope.”

“So he’s finally agreed to you trying to break him? Thank God,” Z laughs, taking a drag of her cigarette. “In the end subs are subs, no matter how bratty they are. Deep down they want to be controlled.”

“Wait. No. What?” Ryan laughs, confused, shaking his head. “No, I’m not trying to break him, I’m not trying anything. Why do you…? We’re the same as always, like, he likes pain, I give it to him. He mocks me, I beat him, and that goes on until we both orgasm,” Ryan jokes, but Z doesn’t seem to find it funny.

She looks at him in silence, stares at him the way she does when she’s trying to read him, when she thinks Ryan is hiding something. Ryan laughs, now getting a little nervous. Z always manages to do that.

“What?? You’re scary when you get like that.”

“Nothing, just…” Z looks away, taking her cigarette to her mouth once again, blowing out the smoke. “I just don’t understand it, but I guess I never really understood the kind of relationship you’ve got with him, so maybe that’s it.”

“What don’t  you understand?”

“Why would you buy a slave, a girl slave, without asking him first,” Z says, shrugging. “I mean, of course I would never ask any of my subs for permission to buy a slave or to get another sub because I’m their fucking Domme, I do what I want to be happy and that makes them happy…” She sighs, looking at Ryan. “He’s not your sub, though. I’m not sure what he is to you, but he’s definitely not your sub, so you’re not his Dom, and I’m pretty sure he’s not into girls. I don’t even know if he’s into threesomes. So I’m struggling to understand why would you buy a girl slave and expect him to be okay with that.”

Ryan blinks a couple of times, letting the words sink in. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He tells himself it’s because he’s waiting for Z to say something else, but the truth is he doesn’t know what to say. Seconds feel like hours and, if Z was kinder to him, she would speak again, give him a little break, a little more time to think, but Z is not kind, she is lethal. Ryan doesn’t know what to do.

“I don’t, I mean… It was just for fun. I didn’t mean to…” He doesn’t know what he meant, he doesn’t know anything. It’s true he didn’t see it that way when he did it, but maybe he was looking for something, maybe subconsciously he was trying to prove something, to get something. He never meant to hurt Brendon, though. 

Somehow Z takes pity on him, it shows that he’s struggling with his own self and his own, thoughts. She sighs and moves her hand, bringing her cigarette to her lips.

“I’m not saying you did wrong. Hell, maybe I am wrong, maybe he loved it but he really was busy and couldn’t… participate. It doesn’t matter what I think, honestly, ‘cause in the end the only one who knows the truth is him. He’s the only one who can tell you what he thinks about it.”

Ryan looks at her, blinking, interiorizing what she’s saying. There’s something stuck in his throat and it’s getting bigger and bigger. He needs to swallow and breath deep. Is he really the one to blame here?

“He’s…” Ryan needs to lick his lips when he feels the words coming out dry. Z frowns, just a little, but enough for Ryan to see it. “I think he’s not talking to me…” he says, and the truth of his words hit him. It didn’t felt this real until he said it out loud. Brendon is not talking to him. “I didn’t… He. The last thing he said was everything was fine, but it didn’t sound fine. And maybe… I wanted to believe it, but I also thought maybe he was tired of me or he had found someone else or… or. Is it my fault?”

Z looks at him in silence for a few seconds before she sighs. Her cigarette is almost finished and she looks at it like it failed her when she needed it the most. Ryan feels her. Ryan needs a cigarette too.

“Are you really asking me? I think you already know…” She says, moving to get another cigarette, lighting it, and falling back on the couch, taking a deep drag. “What the hell, Ryan? If you do that to me I’d be fucking pissed…” She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. She looks away for a moment, and when she looks at Ryan again there’s that look in her eyes he knows very well. “You know what I’m gonna say. You know this wouldn’t have happened if he was… If he wasn’t like he is,” she says, and Ryan just lowers his head. It’s true, he knows it. “Why do you have to make everything so complicated? You had a nice life, you had your one-night stands, you had fun, it was easy. Why someone like him, Ryan?”

“I… I guess I love him.”

He’s never said it out loud. He’s never even thought about it. He’s never let himself think about it. Love is dangerous, love complicates things, and Ryan is so, so bad at loving people. He can’t love Brendon. If he loves Brendon, he’s going to fuck everything up.

“You’re so fucked…” Z sighs, leaning back on the couch. He knows. Fuck yes he does. “You need to go talk to him. Not to… Well, that’s up to you, if you wanna tell him or not, but at least you need to find him and get things clear. Clean your conscience or some shit like that. Let him know you didn’t mean to hurt him. Not that way, at least.”

He should, yeah. Ryan knows he should, but he’s scared. He’s scared of everything, he’s scared of the situation, he’s scared of his feelings, he’s scared of Brendon’s reaction, and he’s scared of Brendon’s rejection. He’s so scared of Brendon’s rejection.

“So?” Z asks, looking at him in the eye. “What are you gonna do?”

“I…” Ryan sighs. “Give me a drag, please.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, how's everything? I'm sorry I didn't update last week, my life is getting a little complicated lately, a lot of fucked up things have happened to me, so I wasn't really paying too much attention to anything else. Thank you for keep showing me your support and love for this fic regardless, you leaving kudos and me reading your comments are two of the very few things that make me happy right now.

 

 

Brendon knows he’s being a coward, but hey, he never said anything about being brave. Hiding and burying himself in work won’t fix what’s broken inside him, but does he really need to fix it? After all, it was just him, he broke himself pretending to be something he was not, thinking it’d be okay for a while, thinking he could take it, thinking he could face the consequences. Maybe he’s being overdramatic, but there’s also the possibility this is the first warning telling him this relationship won’t go anywhere.

He’s fallen for Ryan, that’s a reality. He’s in love. He loves him. Whatever. Ryan doesn’t love him back, that’s another reality. Of course, Brendon doesn’t blame him for it, and it’s not one of those self-deprecating thoughts, “he can’t love me because no one can”, no, Brendon knows he’s lovable, at least he hopes so, but he understands it’s too soon for Ryan to feel that way about him, not everybody goes as fast as Brendon does. He’s intense, in every aspect of his life, he can’t help it. There’s also a fact, and it’s how different they are when it comes to a long term relationship. When they were at Pete’s Brendon noticed the way Ryan looked at the couple, the things Ryan asked him. It showed that kind of relationship was something Ryan would like to have in the future. Brendon can’t give him that. He can’t even play pretends and be a sub for a few hours, he wouldn’t be able to do it for the rest of his life. And Ryan doesn’t want him to either. He was the first one who told Brendon not to do anything he didn’t really like, he wasn’t comfortable with.

“Brendon? Brendon! New client, man!” Sarah snaps her fingers in front of him. “Are you really okay?”

She’s been asking him that since yesterday morning, he probably doesn’t look that good. He hasn’t put any effort into looking good, that’s true, but he just wasn’t in the mood for it. Too many things going on in his head.

“Sure. Sure, sorry,” he apologizes and smiles at her before walking towards the client.

At least he’s still good at his job, even if he spaces out sometimes. He hasn’t cut anyone’s throat by accident yet. People notice, though, regular clients know him already, they know the cheerful, talkative, happy Brendon, so they know something is off.

“Love problems?” Martha asks. She’s a kind woman, on her 50s. She always talks to Brendon about her family, her kids, her stupid husband. “If I was your age and I had your looks I wouldn’t have love problems, honey. I wouldn’t have problems at all,” she jokes and laughs. Brendon smiles too, but he’s not really in the mood for anything else. Martha notices, of course she does, and she looks at his reflection in the mirror. “You deserve good things, Brendon. You’re a good boy. Don’t be a fool like me, prove your generation is wiser. Don’t settle down for anything less than what you deserve.”

“And what’s that?” Brendon asks, holding her hair and cutting it, repeating the process once and again, looking up at the mirror just for a second to meet Martha’s eyes. “What do I deserve?”

“What everyone does, honey. Someone to love you as much as you love them. Someone who gives you the same you give them. There’s nothing pretty about sacrificing yourself for love. That’s foolish. That will only get you a life full of regrets and the feeling of never being enough.”

“I didn’t know you were a therapist, Martha,” he jokes, and this time he laughs with her when she does. “Should I be paying you this time instead of the other way around?”

“Not a therapist, no,” she laughs, shaking her head a bit. “I’m a mom, and I’m old. I’ve lived many lives, I’ve seen and made many mistakes. I’ve learnt from them.”

She does remind Brendon of his mom. He should probably call her, not to tell her about this, he’s not sure yet if he wants his mom to know, but just to talk to her, just to tell her he loves her and sometimes he misses her a lot. Of course, she would know something is off too just talking to him on the phone. Sometimes Brendon hates being so predictable. 

He shouldn’t be working today. It’s too early and days like this one Sarah manages herself alone, there’s not a lot of clients anyway. Brendon needs to work, though, not because he needs the money but because he can’t be alone at home right now. He can’t run away from his thoughts working but at least he can distract himself, he can talk to people, he can give himself a rest.

“B, new client,” Sarah says, and Brendon nods because, yeah, yeah, he heard the door. He puts the broom aside and wipes his hands on his uniform, turning around.

“Yeah, good morning, how can I…” Brendon doesn’t finish the sentence. Ryan is standing right there in front of him, looking at him, waiting. He’s been caught. “Hey, Ryan.”

“Are you busy?” What a stupid question. Of course he’s busy, can’t Ryan see this is his workplace? Brendon looks back at Sarah, who is pretending not to listen but he’s sure she’s hearing everything. “We need to talk, B.”

“Ryan, I’m working… There are clients I need to…” Brendon looks around, the place is empty except for the client currently being attended by Sarah. Shit. “Okay, maybe not right now, but someone could come any second and I can’t just leave my post just because…”

“Okay. Cut my hair,” Ryan cuts him, stepping forward. “You can talk and cut someone’s hair at the same time, right? That’s what hairdressers do.”

“Cosmetologist,” Brendon corrects him, and he can hear Sarah laughing at him in the back. He clenches his jaw. He is a cosmetologist, is not his fault most people come to the beauty salon for a haircut.

“So you can’t cut my hair? Well… you can put makeup on me, make me pretty,” Ryan says totally serious. Brendon can’t help laughing, rubbing his face with his hand and shaking his head.

“I can cut your hair,” he finally says, walking to one of the chairs and turning it around for Ryan to sit on it. “You need it anyway…”

Ryan smiles like he’s won this battle. Brendon isn’t sure what the war is about, but he never liked to be a loser. Maybe everything would go better if both of them were on the same side.

“I want to keep the length,” Ryan says the moment he sits on the chair, facing the mirror, and Brendon puts a plastic cape around his neck.

“Then what am I supposed to cut?”

“I don’t know. The sides? And, like, the neck and… You know.” Ryan shrugs, and maybe Brendon was feeling worse than he thought because right now he wants to take the hair clipper and run it across Ryan’s head.

“Do I know?? How am I supposed to know what you want? Am I a mind reader now? Because, I don’t know, Ryan, maybe what I want and what you want is the absolute opposite!” Is he screaming? He’s not. He’s not screaming, he just maybe rose his voice a little higher than he should, enough to make Sarah stop what she’s doing and the customer looks at him with a face that says she’s glad Brendon is not the one cutting her hair. He got carried away. He’s been bottling this up for too long. Shit.

“Brendon,” Sarah calls him, her voice softer than usual. Great, now that makes it look like he did scream before, but he didn’t. “You just need to keep the length on top and trim the neck and around the ears. Maybe even it up with his five o’clock shadow if he wants too.”

“Yeah. Yes. I want what she said,” Ryan runs to agree. Brendon wrinkles his nose, giving Sarah a dirty look before he goes back to Ryan.

“Maybe she should be the one doing it, then,” he says, putting down a comb he doesn’t remember grabbing.

“Brendon, please,” Ryan looks at him. He doesn’t look at his reflection in the mirror, he actually moves to look at him in the eye. “Please. I’m sorry, okay? I am. But I’m not… I’m not sure what I should be sorry about, that’s why we need to talk. So I can be properly sorry. Okay?”

Brendon sighs. He doesn’t want to. Talking will force him to look deeper inside him, understand his own feelings, explain them to Ryan, open himself up and let himself be seen. He doesn’t like that, especially not when he knows the talk won’t get anything better, won’t fix anything, it will only make it worse. No matter what happens, if they go separate ways right now or if Ryan makes him understand his point of view and Brendon forgives him just to wait until their different needs clash again, this relationship is already over. It’s just a matter of time.

“Just talk…” Brendon says, and he starts spraying Ryan’s hair to prepare it for the haircut.

He guesses Ryan feels uncomfortable, talking about what happened in a public place, with clients coming in and leaving, Sarah walking around. He doesn’t give a fuck, to be honest, he felt really uncomfortable too sitting at his feet near a girl he had never seen before, knowing his boyfriend/partner/whatever wanted to fuck her, letting everyone know he wanted to fuck her, making Brendon look like he was nothing, like his opinion didn’t matter. Yeah, yeah, he knows he agreed to be a sub or act like a sub or whatever when they entered that place. Same shit for Ryan, he knew he was coming to a fucking beauty salon to talk about intimate things. Brendon doesn’t pity him. In fact, he’s actually glad Ryan is struggling here.

“I see now what I did was stupid… I. Maybe I am stupid, okay? No. I’m. I’m sure I’m stupid because I promise you I didn’t realize what was wrong about it until I talked to Z. I just didn’t think about it like that, I was in my role and I assumed you were in yours… only it never crossed my mind you couldn’t be in your role ‘cause that wasn’t your role.” Brendon doesn’t say a thing, he just cuts and trims and listens. He also enjoys watching Ryan fighting to get the right words to talk about it without really talking about it. “I just want you to know that I never… I would never hurt you on purpose. Like. Not without your consent. I mean. You know what I mean. I didn’t ask for permission ‘cause I didn’t think I had to, but if I had known, I’d have totally asked you first.”

“You not knowing doesn’t make it less wrong. Like… like, I can’t just take a knife and cut your pinky just because I want to and I choose to believe you don’t mind and then apologize when you’re screaming and hurting and missing your fucking finger.”

“It’s not the same…”

“Isn’t it? Why, because my mind is less important than your body? Well, you know what? My mind is more important than your body, ‘cause you can sew back your finger but I can’t get my fucking dignity back.” He probably shouldn’t be talking about mutilation with a sharp object in his hands, but whatever.

“Well, I could sew back my finger but I couldn’t get, like… my confidence in you back because, you know, you cut my finger.”

“Touché,” Brendon mutters. He’s right.

“But,” Ryan keep talking, and he tries to meet Brendon’s eyes in the mirror, “but since I got my finger back, and since you apologize, and since I know you didn’t really know you were hurting me, so you didn’t do it on purpose, I would be up for talking about it, fixing things, you know, me telling you I don’t like parts of my body cut, you telling me what’s up with your mutilation kink…”

“I don’t have a mutilation kink,” Brendon fights back a smile, biting the inside of his mouth hard. He hates when Ryan makes him smile while he’s mad. It’s true the intention matters. Of course, it would be so much worse if Ryan had done that knowing Brendon would feel like nothing, knowing it would hurt him and bring back trust issues Ryan doesn’t even know about. It still hurts, though, and Brendon doesn’t know if he can let it go so easily. “Would you really forgive me if I cut your finger?”

“Not any finger. I’m a writer, so you’d fuck me real bad if you cut my index fingers, my thumbs… but I think I could do well without using one of my pinkies for a while. How long does it take for a reattached finger to heal?”

“You’re crazy…” Brendon shakes his head.

“Not if you did on purpose. But… if you, you know. If you had mental issues, maybe. If you had some sort of psychological problem that made you, for a moment, believe you weren’t going to hurt me cutting my finger… then I’d forgive you. I’d make you go get professional help, of course, ‘cause I don’t enjoy putting myself in danger, but I wouldn’t blame you.”

Brendon takes a deep breath, letting it out and turning off the hair clipper, putting it down on the tray near him. He uses the hair dryer on Ryan just a bit and wipes the little hairs stuck on Ryan’s skin before he takes the plastic cape off him.

“We’re done,” Brendon says, and he sees Ryan’s face get pale, his eyes opening wide. Brendon rolls his own. “The haircut. We’re done. And we can go get some coffee, maybe. Talk more privately.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, we… Uh, is your shift over?” Ryan asks, and he sounds like he struggling to get his voice out of his throat. Brendon looks back at Sarah, who he knows has been listening to the whole time. She just moves her hand, nodding.

“You shouldn’t even be here today. Just go, stop making me lose money making me pay you overtime.”

 

*

 

They go get some coffee, and they drink it in silence on the way to Ryan’s house. Brendon can’t say the silence is uncomfortable, but it’s definitely not one of those silence he used to enjoy being with Ryan. This is the kind of silence you need when you’ve cleaned up a wound, you’ve put a bandage on it, and you realize there’s nothing else you can do except waiting for it to heal on its own. That’s what they are right now, a wound. They need to be together if they want it to seal back and heal, but that doesn’t mean it will happen right away.

“You’re coming in, right?” Ryan asks when they’re in front of his house. Brendon nods, if only, he wants to throw his empty paper cup in the trash.

Walking into Ryan’s house feels weird. He already had gotten used to the idea of never coming to this place again. Yes, he’s that overdramatic, he can’t help him, but he really thought Ryan and he was over, so why would he come back here for then? Something in his chest tells him this is not totally okay, like something is missing. He feels the house so familiar, so his, but at the same time it’s like he’s walking into a memory, something that was, but no longer is.

“Brendon,” Ryan stops and turns around to face him. He looks worried. Brendon bites his lip. Fuck, he doesn’t want Ryan to worry. He wants Ryan to be happy. He really loves him, fuck, why. Brendon closes his eyes. If only he could be the one who makes him happy. “Are we okay? Tell me we’re okay. Please.”

“We…” Even that sounds weird. We.

“I know you need time, I know, I’m not saying we’re perfect. Okay? That’s not what I’m… I just want you to…” Ryan takes a deep breath and steps forward. Brendon feels Ryan’s hands holding his. He’s always colder than Brendon. Today is no different. “Can I kiss you?” He whispers, getting a little bit closer. “Please, I… I need to know you still… I need to know you’re still there. The part of you that wants me.”

Brendon smiles. Want. The part of him that wants Ryan. How easy things would be if he just wanted Ryan.

“I do want you,” Brendon whispers back, leaning in and touching their noses together, smiling wider but softer too. “Can I kiss you?” Brendon asks, and Ryan laughs almost desperate when he nods.

“Yes. Yes, please. Thank you,” he says, still smiling when Brendon closes the distance and actually kisses him, slow and wrapping his arms around Ryan’s neck, squeezing their bodies together, getting warmer. “Thank you. Thank God,” Ryan whispers, moving back to look at him, hugging him back again, hiding his face on Brendon’s neck. “Thank God.”

Brendon knows he can’t say ‘I love you’ again, no matter how much he’s feeling it, but he allows himself to kiss Ryan’s hair, his temple, closing his eyes and sinking in Ryan’s smell. He’s so fucking stupid, he could end up this like civilized people. Now everything is going to be a disaster.

Ryan is kissing him now, he’s kissing him deeper, desperate, and maybe not as meaningful as Brendon feels it. Ryan’s hands move to hold his face, looking at him between kiss and kiss, getting closer, so close Brendon feels Ryan’s temperature rising on his own skin.

“I can’t…” Brendon struggles to pull away from Ryan’s mouth, from his taste. “I’m not in the mood for a scene right now…”

“No. No, fuck, don’t…” Ryan shakes his head quickly, frowning and looking at him, not letting go of his face. “Don’t think about that now. Fuck that, okay? I don’t… That’s not what I want from you. I just… Just you. Just Brendon. Nothing else.”

“Even if just Brendon wants to just kiss you?” He jokes, smiling a little. Ryan looks at him and smiles too, nodding. 

“Just kissing sounds amazing.”

They do kiss. And kiss. And kiss once more, smiling at first, at each other, in each other’s mouths, exchanging heat, licks, biting at each other’s lips, walking without breaking the kiss. They’re still kissing when they fall on the couch, Brendon on top of Ryan, Ryan’s arms around his waist. Brendon doesn’t feel like teasing, it’s true, he doesn’t feel like playing any role right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s not heating up. That doesn’t mean he’s not getting hard.

“What do you want?” Ryan asks, digging his fingers into Brendon’s hips, moving him closer, making Brendon’s clothed cock drag hard across Ryan’s stomach. “We’ll do what you say. Anything you need. I don’t care.”

“I want to fuck you.” Brendon doesn’t know where did that come from, but once he’s said it, he doesn’t take it back.

“What?” Ryan’s face makes him laugh.

“You heard me. I want to take the lead, I want to be on top of you. I want to fuck you.”

Brendon is waiting for Ryan to stop him right there, to tell him that’s going too far, to make an excuse maybe. He’s not even sure Ryan has done that before, bottoming for someone. He guesses so, just because Ryan is old enough to have done a little experimenting here and there, people aren't just born being a Dom and even some Doms get fucked in the ass now and then just because they like it, but who knows, maybe Brendon is really asking for too much right now.

He’s not waiting for Ryan to just oblige. But that’s what he does.

“Yes,” Ryan nods after a few seconds, looking at him, sure. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Your bed,” Brendon says, standing up and pulling at Ryan’s clothes to take him with him. He’s pushing it, he knows. Vanilla sex in Ryan’s bedroom and Brendon topping him. It’s a lot, Brendon knows, but Ryan is playing along like it’s nothing and maybe Brendon is letting himself believe this relationship can go somewhere after all.

When they get to the room Brendon has lost his shirt already, pushing Ryan’s body as he walks to the bed, unbuckling Ryan’s belt without breaking mouth to mouth contact. He’s not used to this either, taking the lead, just doing what he wants, taking what he wants without resistance. A big part of him is still waiting for Ryan to stop him and turn the tables, make him pay for what he’s doing. Maybe he’s even more fucked up than he thought.

“Wait wait wait,” Ryan says when their bodies hit the bed and Brendon forces himself between Ryan’s legs. Brendon’s heart races up. This is it. But Ryan just moves to open the drawer of his bedside table, pushing a bottle of lube in Brendon’s hand. “This. I need… You have to prep me first. Or I’ll do it. But I don’t like it when it hurts. Okay?”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” Brendon nods quickly. He wasn’t thinking of fucking Ryan dry, he’s not a monster, also he’s not sure he himself could take it. He kisses Ryan again, messy, their lips already shiny and full, as he opens the cap of the bottle, squeezing some of the substance on his fingers. “You’ve done this before, right?” He asks just to be sure. He doesn’t really wait for Ryan to answer before he brings his fingers between Ryan’s asscheeks, but he just pokes a little with his fingers, he doesn’t push, not yet.

“It’s been a while,” Ryan says, licking his lips and laughing nervously. “And, uh. Never… Not with a guy, no. Just myself. You know. Toys. Just to see how—“ Ryan gasps when Brendon pushes his fingers in, two of them at the same time. “Fuck. Bren.”

“Sorry. I just wanted you to be relaxed,” Brendon smiles a little, resting his forehead on Ryan’s, brushing their noses together. “Did it hurt? Does it…?” Ryan shakes his head, breathing deeper.

“Feels good. It’s weird having you… inside. But it’s good. It feels good,” Ryan licks his lips, shifting and closing his eyes when Brendon’s fingers go deeper. “Come on, are we doing this or not?”

Fuck yes they’re doing it.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end, guys. Sorry again for taking too long. The truth is... I didn't want to write this chapter, but it had to be done. Thank you so much for every comment and kudos, I still can't believe this series is getting so much love. I honestly hope you enjoy it as much as you've enjoyed the previous ones. See you again soon!

 

 

 

Ryan has never been a bottom. It’s totally different having something up your ass and being a bottom. Ryan has experimented, of course he has, he likes to try new things, especially if they feel good, and he’s not one of those guys who think getting fucked makes you less manly somehow. Not that he cares about manliness. It just has never happened, mostly because he’s always been with girls and also because he’s always been a Dom. He’s had vanilla sex too, of course, but in those cases he doesn’t think the girls were interested in fucking him. He never asked, to be honest.

Having someone inside you is totally different than using your fingers, using a toy, using anything. In fact, Ryan would bet if feels different than using a proper person. For a moment he thinks about turning around, pushes Brendon down and rides him, taking control of the situation, using him, and getting rid of the feeling inside his guts, the helplessness. He wonders if Brendon would get too mad.

“Like this?” Brendon is so close, Ryan can only see his eyes, staring deeply into him, like he’s seeing something else than just his face. He’s fucking gorgeous, even this close. Ryan can appreciate every detail, his lips, his eyelashes, his freckles. Goddammit, Brendon. “You need to tell me if you like it. It’s been long since the last time I did this. I don’t…”

“I like it,” Ryan says just to make him stop talking. He doesn’t want to know about the last time Brendon did this. He does. He likes it. Fuck, he’s blushing just thinking about it. He hopes Brendon doesn’t notice.

“Yeah?” Brendon lowers his voice, presses his nose against Ryan’s cheek, kissing the skin below his ear softly and whispering. “You like my cock inside you?” Ryan digs his nails in Brendon’s back and groans.

“Don’t do that,” Ryan blushes harder as he speaks, even more when his cock twitches and he knows Brendon can feel it between their bodies, he can feel how wet Ryan is.

“Don’t do what?” Brendon smiles and thrusts deeper, slowly, like he wants Ryan to feel inch by inch how he gets in and out. It’s making him crazy, Ryan can’t even breathe. “I thought you liked dirty talking,” Brendon mocks him. “Not so much when you’re on the other end, babe? Don’t you want me to tell you how good your tight hole feels? The pretty faces you make while I fuck you?”

“Brendon. Fuck. Please," he begs. He's never done that before, not during sex, and he never thought begging would be so embarrassing but he's feeling it in his whole body, the absolute control Brendon has over him right now.

"Fuck, I get it now," Brendon looks at him with big, shiny eyes, smiling as he thrust harder, making Ryan moan under his mouth. "Now I know why you like it so much, me begging for it. God, it sounds so good."

Ryan wants to shut his mouth right there, not to say a word anymore, but Brendon holds his face in place and forces a kiss, pushes his tongue in, licks Ryan's, tastes him. He doesn't want to moan but he does, and the combination of Brendon's tongue inside his mouth and Brendon's cock inside his body makes him melt and twist and pant like he's reaching some sort of mystical ecstasy. 

"I'm… close," he says. He is, really close, but he can't say he's coming already or he will, and it'd be even more embarrassing that it'll be already. Coming untouched. No. Not untouched, his cock is trapped between both of their bodies, he's practically humping Brendon's stomach, so not untouched, but anyway.

"Fuck," Brendon grunts, moving faster and searching for Ryan's hands, putting them on his own back. "Scratch me. Hard. Make it hurt," he asks, demanding because of course, he would be bossy topping, he already is bottoming. Ryan does anyway, or he tries because the pleasure becomes overwhelming and suddenly he doesn't even know what he's doing anymore. He digs his nails into Brendon's flesh and bites his lips, kissing him back as hard as he can while he rubs his cock against Brendon's stomach.

He wants to warn Brendon before he comes, but he can't even warn himself, it just happens, it hits him and his whole body shakes like an earthquake, moaning inside Brendon's mouth and spilling between their bodies. He can see Brendon is surprised but also satisfied like he did a good job. Ryan doesn't want to think about how he finished so quickly, he wants to enjoy his aftermath, and for a moment he does, while Brendon is still inside him, moving a bit slower, kissing him, biting him.

The bliss disappears when Brendon pulls out, when he digs his nails in his own thigh, hard, scratching up and drawing blood as he starts to stroke his cock, jerking off fast and moaning. He kisses Ryan, and Ryan tries to return the kiss properly but there's a thought that won't leave his mind.

"Fuck, baby, fuck…" Brendon moans, kissing him harder until Ryan feels it, Brendon coming all over him, still jerking off, panting. "That was so good."

Ryan looks at him but doesn't say anything. Was it? Was it really good if Brendon had to jerk off in the end? Fuck. Ryan feels his whole body getting cold. What the fuck was this? He couldn't even make Brendon come, what is he becoming?

"Did you like it?" Brendon asks with a satisfied smile, lying down by Ryan's side. He must take to long to answer because Brendon frowns and looks at him closer. "Ryan. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, uh…" he nods, but his voice doesn't sound convincing. He looks at Brendon who's still frowning a little. "Just… You know. Too new."

"But new isn't bad, is it?" Brendon asks. New isn't bad. It shouldn't be.

"Not bad…" he says, and it looks like Brendon can hear the ellipsis too.

"We don't need to do it again. It’s okay." Brendon smiles and pokes Ryan's cheek with his nose. "No need to do things you don't like, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Ryan smiles too. He remembers.

 

*

 

Thinking back, he doesn't really know what exactly made him do what he did. Maybe it was all the pressure. Pressure can be overwhelming, especially when it comes from yourself. So he called Z right after, Brendon still sleeping peacefully in bed, Ryan just out of the shower. He called her and told her what was bothering him, what was worrying him. Losing himself, his identity. He's never thought himself as a classic Dom, he never cared about the definition, he never thought about what makes someone what, probably because he never had to. But now, recently, since Brendon has come to his life, everything is changing. Brendon is challenging everything Ryan knew about this life, about himself, and Ryan doesn't think he can keep up.

"That's what I've always tried to tell you. There's a difference between fucking a SAM and having a relationship with him," she says, and suddenly there's no Brendon anymore, there's a SAM. Ryan never liked when Z reduced Brendon to what he likes in bed but isn't this about their sex life after all? He can't blame her.

"I don't know. He’s good everywhere else, and there are things that I really don't mind, but it feels like the more I give in, the more he takes… and sometimes it's like I'm gonna wake up and I'll be the one tied to the bed and he'll be delivering the spanking." He tries to joke, but there's a bit of truth in that. It’s a reality he doesn't see so improbable, and he doesn't like it at all.

"Then stop giving in. A relationship shouldn't be about giving in. Set your red lines straight, it's pretty easy, Ryan. You make the rules. You don't force him to obey them, but you make the rules. And if he doesn't like them, he can leave."

"He doesn't like any rule…" Ryan sighs. "I don't even know if I can make rules anymore. It's like I don't know myself anymore."

"Ryan, honey…  I'm not a therapist. I know what I'd do, you should know what to do too. If you don't like this situation, change it."

That's easy to say. Ryan is sure Z would do it easily too, in fact, he knows Z wouldn't be in this situation, she smarter than that. He should talk to Brendon, but he doesn't. Something inside him doesn't let him do it, like it would be humiliating, asking Brendon to take a step back, to reconsider some points of their relationship. He’s always been the one making decisions, why does he have to ask for permission now?

He decides to let it go, or so he tries. 

Days go by and things go back to normal, Brendon never tries to take control again, although he never submits to Ryan either, not like he ever did. They have kind of a domestic life together too, Brendon starts spending most of the time at Ryan's, doing things they'd do if they were actually living together. It should be good, it should be enough to get some stupid thoughts out of Ryan's mind. It isn't, though. Something has changed, and Brendon seems so oblivious Ryan doesn't know how to address it.

That's why it's so stupid when it finally happens.

"Do I need to say 'purple'?" Brendon jokes. Ryan is singing some old songs in the worst voice ever on purpose, just to torture Brendon, and Brendon is laughing so hard he's holding his stomach, asking Ryan to stop already.

"Purple? What is purple?"

That's why it's so stupid. Stupid and dangerous.

Brendon stops laughing but he still has that wide smile on his face, although he's looking at Ryan like he doesn't understand the question.

"Purple," he repeats like Ryan just needs to hear it clearer to know what it is. "You know. My safeword."

"Your safeword is 'purple'??" Ryan frowns and laughs a little, sitting straight on the couch and looking at Brendon. "I thought we used 'red', you did use 'red' the first time I met you."

"Well, duh. Red is like the universal code and I didn't know you, you didn't know me. But now… I mean, I've told you. I can't believe you don't know my safeword," Brendon laughs, kind of like he's trying to sound like he's joking, but there's something off. Of course, it is, it is for Ryan too. Not knowing your partner's safeword is not something to laugh about.

"I thought it was red. I mean… Jesus, Brendon, what if…?"

"But I've told you! It's not my fault you don't listen to me."

"I do listen to you! But, really… I don't even… Maybe I didn't notice 'cause I didn't think you would use a color over another color for a safeword. Like, why the hell 'purple'? You don't like 'red' but you like 'purple'?"

"What?" Brendon looks shocked like he doesn't know where that came from. He's about to know. "Well, since you're so interested in it, it comes from  'Purple Rain' cause I like Prince but he creeps me out, so thinking of him is the farthest thing from sex I can think of. Happy?"

No, he's not happy. He's opened a gate and now he doesn't even know if he will be able to close it. Now he's mad. The purple thing has made him mad. Or maybe that's just the excuse.

"Purple… Goddammit, you can never be normal, right? Everything must be different with you."

That's probably when it happens, when Brendon's face changes to one Ryan has never seen before.

"What?" Even his voice sounds different, like he's totally a different person.

"It's true! I've never met someone as complicated as you. Everything changes with you, there are no rules. You're not a sub, but you like to be in that position, you're not a Dom but you like to take control of the situation. You want pain and you want power and, and… instead of trying to fit in the world, you want the world to fit in you. You like when I act like a Dom with you but then get mad when I act like a Dom with everyone else. I need to meet your expectations in public but God forbid you meet mine." Ryan takes a deep breath, filling up his lungs. "I know you won't change and become a perfect sub, I know that, but maybe you could be a little more normal, you could at least try. That’s all I’m saying. You could try to be a little bit normal, to make sense for a while."

There it is, everything he was holding back, not in the best order and not in the best way, but finally is out. Brendon looks angry, or astonished, or both at the same time. He looks like Ryan has just slapped him across the face when he thought he was about to kiss him.

“Normal? Do you really want to talk about normal? Cause maybe I’m wrong but I think getting pissed at you for wanting to fuck another person without asking for my consent is pretty more “normal” than you thinking you’re entitled to fuck another person without having to ask for my consent.”

“You know very well that’s not the normal I mean.”

“Oh, so now there’s types of normalcy. I think that pretty much defies the meaning of the word, don’t you think?”

“You always have to be such a smart-ass, right?” Ryan is getting angry. It’s like every word Brendon says is made to push every one of his buttons. He doesn’t even know why, but right now he’s fed up with Brendon’s bullshit. “Well, if you need me to get all academic on you cause you can’t understand a simple word in context, there _are_ types of normalcy, you know? Cause what’s normal depends on the fucking cultural background of the situation. And you know what? Back in that party, it _was_ normal for a Dom to do as they pleased, the same way it was normal to have a fucking slave auction. It was normal for me to bid on a slave, to get her home, and to do whatever the fuck I wanted with her. She was okay with it, the host was okay with it, the whole fucking party was okay with it and thought it was normal except you, because you need to be different. You need to be special.”

“I _need_ to??” Brendon opens his eyes wide, his whole face changing, maybe even getting a little pale, and his voice sounds like he can’t believe what Ryan just said, but Ryan can’t stop now. The words are overflowing, he can’t stop.

“I try to put up with it, and I think I do pretty good at it. I do everything you say, I don’t punish you, I don’t try to discipline you, I plan the scenes according just to your needs and I let you joke and mock me and curse and pretty much disrespect me in every way no sub could dream of. You want pain, I give you pain, you want to be treated as an equal when we’re around other Doms and that’ll make me look weak, I do too! I treat you as an equal in any situation, I don’t even care anymore. And then you want to fuck me and I let you fuck me, you want to make me beg and… take control of me. And I let you. I let you do everything you want, I keep pushing my needs back, I keep holding myself back, and now I can’t even recognize myself.” Ryan scoffs and sighs. “I thought maybe if I gave in a little I could get something in return, but you’re just taking and taking without giving a shit.”

He wants to keep talking, he could keep talking, but he hasn’t been paying attention to Brendon’s face until now and he has to shut his mouth when he does. Brendon looks sick, the color drained out of his face. He opens his mouth and Ryan isn’t sure if he’s going to talk or to throw up. It takes a while until he actually says something, like he can’t get the words out of his throat.

“Oh, wow,” Brendon laughs, blinking like he just woke up from a dream. His voice sounds dry and bitter, but also sad. Too much. There’s too much sadness in his voice, too much for a fight. You should be angry during a fight, not sad. “So that’s it, huh? Fuck yes, that’s exactly what I was waiting for. How could I’ve been so blind?” He shakes his head, bringing his hands to his head, rubbing his face. “It was a lie. Everything. You were just… Well, you said it well, putting up with me, letting me do things, giving in so you could get something in return. And how the fuck was I supposed to know that, huh? How was I supposed to know you didn’t like us the way we were, you didn’t like me the way I am. How was I supposed to know every time you said I didn’t need to change you wanted the exact opposite? What were you expecting? Huh? For me to say, ‘oh, jeez, he’s so good to me, he likes me the way I am so I’m gonna become the exact opposite for him as a thank you’? Is that what you wanted? Did you want you prince charming cock to fuck me into becoming a pliant sub? You just… Why are you even with me if you don’t like me?” His jaw shakes a little and he blinks fast. “Fuck. I really, really thought you were different. You’re like everybody else.”

Ryan frowns. What the fuck? Is he for real?

“I’m like everybody else??” He has to be kidding. How does he dare to even say that? “Don’t make me laugh. Should I remind you what everybody else was doing when I found you? You were so used to be beaten and raped in that alley you called it your personal dungeon! I took you home. I took care of you, I took care of what other people had done when you weren’t even mine, when I could’ve just leave you there.”

Brendon looks shocked, his eyes look bigger, he’s… Fuck. Ryan blinks and licks his lips, swallowing. He’s crying. Brendon is crying. When did he start? When did this happen? What did he say? Something tightens inside Ryan’s chest. Did he go too far?

“Oh. Okay,” Brendon nods. “So what, you want a fucking medal for showing basic human decency?” His lips tremble when he speaks, tears running down his face. He’s not hiding, he’s openly crying and Ryan has never seen him like this, he’s never seen someone like this. He’s dealt with tears before, during scenes, tears provoked by him, but this is totally different. He doesn’t know what to do. He feels attacked. 

“Well, no, but you could show a little bit of gratitude!” Should he? Should he really show gratitude for Ryan not being the same disgusting piece of shit Brendon has met before? He’s not sure. He doesn’t know. He needs to defend himself. 

“Gratitude?” Brendon says the word like it takes disgusting in his mouth, his face twisting when he takes a step back, bringing his arms to his chest like he’s protecting himself from something, like suddenly Ryan is a threat he needs to get away from. “Gratitude in the form of what? How exactly should have I show it, Ryan?” He speaks slowly, like he’s afraid of the question because he doesn’t want to hear the answer. “Lowering my head and taking orders? Giving… my body to you, to use as you please? Forgetting about myself, neglecting my own needs just to be what you needed me to be?”

“That’s not what I said…” He didn’t mean that, and Brendon is making it sound worse than it should. Maybe he phrased it wrong, but there’s no way what he said is as awful as Brendon is taking it. Ryan is not a bad person, he’s not like that, but now he feels like that and there’s a knot in his throat and could Brendon just stop crying? Please. Please, Ryan can’t see him crying.

“Then what? I really want to know, Ryan,” Brendon sniffs. “Cause obviously I’ve been missing something. I guess I wasn’t giving you enough, I guess… I guess I was confused this whole time,” he tightens his jaw, and there’s a glimpse of anger in his eyes. That’s better. Ryan can handle anger better. Or so he thinks. “I guess opening up to you, making you part of my life, that never mattered. Meeting each other’s friends, going to the movies, staying late just talking until we fall asleep, that’s just bullshit, right? What would you care that I showed you and gave you a part of me I’ve always been afraid of giving to anyone else? What’s that compared to showing some gratitude saying ‘yes sir’, of course, sir’, ‘whatever you want, sir’.”

“That’s not…” Ryan breaths deep. “Brendon. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean!? Tell me! What exactly should I have done better? What complaint do you have about me that’s not fucking sex related, Dom/sub related? Jesus, I think I hate those words because of you…” Brendon closes his eyes but the tears don’t stop. Ryan feels something twisting in his guts. “I never thought I’d fit in. I had accepted it, I wasn’t part of the community, I didn’t even care anymore. But then you came into my life, you worked your way in, you told me there was nothing wrong with me, you let me believe it. You made me feel like I belonged… You made me love you for it,” Brendon looks away and snorts a bitter laugh, shaking his head before he looks at Ryan again.

It’s just that, just a couple of seconds, the time he takes to look at Ryan is the time Ryan needs to realize he’s just fucked up. He’s taking it too far and right now he doesn’t even know why. He sees how Brendon moves to the front door, and every step he takes Ryan wants to say something, wants to find the right answer to fix everything, to make Brendon understand, to make Brendon stay and listen, or maybe just stay and talk. He could listen too, he could listen.

For a moment he opens his lips to say ‘I love you’, but this is not a movie and those three words don’t fix real problems in real life. Does it matter, anyway? Wouldn’t it be worse to say I love you now? Wouldn’t that make Brendon feel even worse, knowing someone who claims to love him has said such awful things to him?

“You should have beaten me and raped me in that alley, you know?” Brendon sobs, sniffing hard and wiping the tears off his face like they burn. “It would have hurt a lot less.”

“Brendon…”

“Purple, Ryan!” He looks defeated, tired, empty, and still he manages to scream, tears running down his face as he opens the door, looking at Ryan like he knows it’s the last time he will see him. “Fucking purple.”

 

 

 


End file.
